


mercy in dreams

by deanslist



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, In a way, Mystery, for the surprise, intentionally left out a lot of things, it is a happy ending, vague plotline, which i hope surprises you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23591659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanslist/pseuds/deanslist
Summary: “Magic can be sinister when in the hands of the wrong man.”
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65
Collections: Supergirl Femslash Secret Santa 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ariel_Hedgehog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Hedgehog/gifts).



> I have explained to Ariel_Hedgehog the reason for the delay of this story, and truth be told, I still feel very bad for how things happened, especially because this was supposed to be a Christmas gift to them. That said, I'm not going to bore you all with the mentally and emotionally tiring story of my life at this point, so I'll just go ahead and tell you guys to enjoy what I wrote for them, and I do hope that they will enjoy it as well. I took their prompt and just went with what my brain gave me, so cross fingers they, and other readers, will love this piece just as much as I loved it.
> 
> It's purposely made vague because I still have so many ideas for this prompt, but I'm leaving it at that for the meantime. Feel free to drop any theories or whatever ideas this piece gave you as you read and after you read it. Who knows? We might have the same ideas for the possible second chapter. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for your understanding, Ariel_Hedgehog! I hope you enjoy this one. 
> 
> Love lots!

There was a tale once told about two young people, who ventured so deep into the woods that they weren’t able to get back to where they initially came from, never to be seen again. Many versions of the story had been told, some more morbid than the other, but this tale was told to children so they may be scared off of exploring what existed in between tall trees and wild grasses. 

For so many years, it served its purpose well, but it was the year of which the new generation was coming in to destroy whatever fear the elders have planted in their minds, and those who had just stepped on the line of adulthood were eager to march headfirst into the forest to prove that there’s nothing in there; at least, nothing anyone should _ever_ fear. 

And she’s one of them. Youngest of three siblings, proud and brave, and armed with the bow and arrows her father had made particularly for her. 

The show of bravery started during the hottest month of the year, boasting of about thirty people from her town, all of whom were children she grew up with. Now, the wind was colder, _biting,_ almost, and people had come and gone, some still eager to stay while the others were content in proving to spectators that in the woods, there was nothing but wild animals and nothing else. No magic, no _witches_ like other kingdoms seem to claim they have, no dangerous groups of people always on the ready to hunt and devour. 

Nothing.

Still, she didn’t blame them for choosing to go back to the life they knew best. Living in the forest was refreshing as much as it was unnerving. Day and night, one couldn’t help but feel they’re being watched; whether it be by an animal or another person, it provided a sense of danger, a _need_ to survive at all times, and it was exhausting. 

It definitely was an acquired taste, so to speak.

“Exploring again?”

Her train of thoughts was interrupted by a familiar voice, one she’d only heard thrice since she ventured deep into the forest. She lifted her head and found the same woman who’d provided shelter for her when the sun was particularly cruel to her some mornings ago; wearing the same golden hair, longer than the last time she saw her, and a glow of optimism around her. The sight of her made her hesitate in her eager steps, leaves crunching underneath the weight of her reluctance and curiosity. 

“You seem tired,” the woman spoke again, her lips twitching into a short smile as if she knew why she wasn’t very keen to respond to her in any way. That didn’t seem to stop her, however, and she continued when her reception remained cold. “I have warm tea and bread; freshly baked. You might like it.”

It was the second time she was invited by this woman for a cup of tea in her little cottage, which, to her bewilderment, had somehow appeared out of thin air at the corner of her eyes. Her gaze flickered over to the little home, its chimney emitting soft smoke, giving an appearance of a warm home — harmless and all — but she felt a spike in her heartbeat, her fingers stiffening and losing warmth. 

No, she wasn’t scared. Not of this woman, not of the _bloody_ cottage which wasn’t there only minutes ago. She’d always been aware of her surroundings, knew where she was going and where she came from. If she was taking the path toward the woman’s home, she would have known—

“Come follow me. I have tea and bread for you.”

The voice was fainter, _distant_ , and when she looked over, she found the woman much closer to her front door. Only a few steps and she’d be crossing the threshold, entering the house, concealing her sight of the wandering stranger. It should be easy to leave, to run, to _escape_ , but _gods_ , against her better judgment, she found herself maneuvering herself towards the wooden house.

* * *

It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. 

As soon as she stepped past the door and heard it close behind her, the first thing her gaze found was the kitchen, not because the woman was there, preparing their food. She wasn’t particularly excited over food offered by strangers, albeit she _had_ once been in the past when she’d been struggling with hunting and nearly starving to death. The fact that she was still alive was a fact worth giving credits to the woman who brought her into her room for the second time, but she couldn’t bring herself to be so accepting just yet.

It wasn’t the food that interested her, but rather the other woman who sat by the window whilst reading a book, serene and focused. She had dark hair, a jaw seemingly chiseled by the gods themselves, and a skin so pale it made one wonder if she ever did visit the outside world. Just like in the past, she paused to look up at their new company and offered her a polite smile, welcoming and _almost_ indulging in a way, but she didn’t want to read too much into it; not when she was determined not to fall for whatever game these two had up their sleeves. 

“She’s exploring again,” the dark-haired one spoke as if she wasn’t there, to begin with. “Or has she even gone home since the last time she was here?”

“Who knows?” the golden one answered. “Perhaps her feet have become restless because of the cold weather.” Turning to her guest, she smiled and brought over the dishes to the table, laying everything carefully and precisely. “Am I right?”

She pursed her lips, still reluctant to take another step into the house, awkward and stiff as she stood by the door with her bow and arrow. “You’re not wrong, but you’re not right as well,” she opted to say instead of a straightforward answer. “You still refuse to tell me your names?”

The two exchanged smiles, which only served to fuel the frustration deep inside her, but she stamped down whatever sharp remark threatened to spill out of her lips. Instead, she waited for an answer, for _anything_ , really, but all she got was an invitation to move closer, a beckoning of the hand she couldn’t seem to refuse.

Despite herself, she walked closer and sat opposite to the reader, still not letting go of her weapon, and for a moment, she contemplated over the matter. Must she let go? Were they trustworthy enough to let go of which would protect her from possible danger?

In the end, the golden one answered for her.

“Don’t be a child,” she chided gently. “Stand up and wash your hands before you eat.”

Properly chastised, and utterly confused, she pushed back the chair and went on to do the task of thoroughly cleaning her hands and removing the dirt clinging on her already clipped nails. There’s whispering behind her as she did so, a language unfamiliar to her, or perhaps she simply couldn’t hear well, but it was a soft exchange between her hosts, their voices sounding gentle and… _adoring_ in a way that effectively eradicated whatever fear was starting to bubble up from within her again. 

Still, it didn’t stop her skin from rolling with chills as she turned and heard: 

_“...Catch her._ ”

* * *

It felt like living in a dream: one moment she was standing by the sink, and then the next, she was seated at the head of the table, drinking a warm cup of tea as the owners of the house did the same.

The woman with the dark hair was back to reading her book, only sparing her and the golden one a spare glance whenever she had to flip a page or tear a piece of bread. The other host seemed content to just watch the other immerse herself in her book whilst indulging herself with a larger portion of the bread she’d apparently baked. 

And she was still wondering who these two women were.

“You refuse to tell me your names,” she spoke when the silence began to irritate her. “Why?”

The golden one turned to her, her gaze almost _apologetic._ For whatever reason, she couldn’t seem to come up with one, but it only served to fuel her irritation. She’s one second away from bursting when the golden one placed her cup back on the table, regarding her with a smile that seemed to tell her that she understood her frustration.

Yet somehow, she knew neither of them would give her answers any time soon.

“Why do you insist on knowing our names?” she asked, her tone not unkind, perhaps even painted with a tiny hint of mirth. “After you finish your tea, surely you will be on your way, no intentions of coming back to visit us again.”

“I am not visiting you,” she frowned, clearly confused at the choice of word. “You- You found me, in the woods, and invited me in for tea.”

The golden one began to speak but was interrupted by the reader.

“She’s right, you know,” she said, her tone even, with just a hint of… resignation? “This little wanderer was _exploring_ when you found her,” and then she paused to reach out for the golden one’s hand, an action she simply couldn’t miss. “Not the other way around.”

She noted the way in which her voice seemed to stutter near the end, as if she was about to say something, only to remember that they weren’t alone — that there was a stranger in their home, one they’re determined to deny of their names. 

She felt her frustration burning up once more, and it showed in the way she gripped her cup a little tighter, the way her hand shook for a quick moment before it calmed down. She knew there was no point in asking again, not after the first time she came here and not after blatantly refusing to give her answers the second time around.

So, she chose to let it go.

She finished her tea and bread in silence, eager to leave and never return, and as she devoured the last portion of bread left on her plate, she looked up and met the eyes of her hosts, a stubborn clench in her jaw as she spoke:

“Perhaps, it’s time for me to go home.”

It wasn’t met with an immediate response, and the silence was unnerving as she waited for something, _anything_ from the two. Instead, all they did was look at her, _take_ her in as if they knew it would be the last time they’d see her; if not for the fact that she was in a stranger’s home, deep in the middle of the woods, it would have been a peaceful moment.

The wind was blowing gently into the window, bells softly chiming to an unfamiliar tune whose notes seemed to carry on across the living room. Undisturbed, comforting, _gentle_ ; if time had been taken to observe further, perhaps the warm tone of its interior would have been appreciated more than it was, not overshadowed by fear and doubts. Maybe she would have felt it: the simple happiness of having someone new in a home that had only known two people for an unknown period of time. 

Maybe she would have been more receptive to staying for a little longer, but answers remained elusive and confusion began to eat away at her bravery. The only reasonable thing to do was leave.

“I appreciate your hospitality, and if my coming here and sharing bread had expressed a different idea from what I truly feel as I sit in this table, I apologize,” she pursed her lips. “The longer I remain clueless, the stronger I fear for my safety in your company. I don’t know who you are, or _what_ you are. There—” she paused, swallowing a lump in her throat; undeniably frustrated for falling into her old thoughts and beliefs. “There was a tale once told to us as children and… it was about two people, lost in the woods, forever and I—” she glanced up, as if seeing them for the first time; as if she hadn’t been sitting there since the sun was seated right on top of her head. Her hands and feet grew cold, heart hammering against her ribcage as her instinct told her to run away from what was possibly a nightmare, but the needles in her feet prevent her from leaving, stuck on the wooden chair like a puppet without control of its own limbs.

“Do not fear us, wanderer,” the reader interrupted in that gentle tone, her lips curled in a smile which was obviously intended to drive her fears away. “We have heard of that tale and I do not blame you for coming into this conclusion, but look around you.”

And she did. She looked around the little house, took note of the fresh basket of fruits and vegetables; of a familiar design on a bucket full of fresh milk, one she assumed to be goat’s; of new clothes for the coming winter. 

_New_ things, which implied that these women weren’t isolated, or lost, or anything of that sort. It served its purpose, the numbing fear seemingly trickling from her body down to her towns, _slowly._

“We are not trapped in the woods, and neither are you, wanderer,” the reader spoke again, and she felt herself deflate a bit more. “We are simply two… people who chose to live far away from the heart of the kingdom, of which we _still_ live in. We are not lost souls who failed to find our way back.”

“We are two souls who _chose_ to turn our backs from home,” the golden one said, reaching out to hold the reader’s hand again, and this time, the latter takes her hand to lace their fingers together. “Because home was unkind to us, wanderer.”

Her eyes remained stuck on their joined hands, and after what seemed like a lifetime, as if someone had snapped their fingers in front of her, she _suddenly_ knew why.

“You are lovers…” she said, slowly, not unkindly, but reluctant. It wasn’t an unfamiliar idea to her, not with the constant murmurings from people around her about two people of the same sex having relations exceeding that of friends. It wasn’t an unfamiliar idea, but it was an idea which was _decreed_ wrong by the king, himself, and so many people choose not to regard it with the utmost kindness. 

“We are,” the reader replied, glancing over at the golden one with what she could only describe was an adoring smile. “And we are happy. We do not regret leaving the kingdom a long time ago, wanderer. Each new day is easier and kinder to us since we decided to run away together.”

The golden one returned the smile with just as much ardor, if not more, then looked back at their guest. “Has the kind changed his mind over the matter?”

“No,” she responded quickly, almost sadly. “He _deplores_ it; people have been punished for daring to love those who were of the same sex.”

The golden one nodded solemnly, pursing her lips. “And that is why we remain hidden in the woods; to avoid such cruel laws, wanderer.” She sighed quietly while brushing her hair to the back of her head. “We are not lost; we are driven away by hatred and _fear_.”

“It is why you refuse to tell me your names,” she whispers. “Because you fear that I might reveal who you are to the people of our kingdom and risk having you found.”

The reader smiled kindly. “Not quite so.”

But it must be it, she thought to herself. What other reason would there be for the secrecy? 

* * *

“The king is an old man,” she said after a while when the silence which befell upon them became too much _once again_. “Perhaps… his successor will have a different view; perhaps they might be more accepting than the king, himself. A new generation is coming, one that is more open to such ideas—”

“Your optimism is truly appreciated, wanderer,” the reader cut in gently. “But we know the king and his successors. There will be no forgiveness in the coming seasons; not anytime soon.”

She frowned. “But what if—”

It started a little faint, a distant sound which could easily be disregarded as nature just being nature, but the sound became louder, _closer,_ and soon she felt the familiar vibration in her chest, effectively snatching her attention from her company to the door behind her. 

The thunder of hooves against the ground came to an abrupt halt, accentuated by ear-piercing whinnies and squeals from mighty beasts that had surely brought with them people whose intentions were far from what she had in mind when she set out to have a long day of walk from her previous tent. 

“You must go,” the golden one said as she stood from her chair, almost throwing the wooden object to its back from her speed. “Walk away and never look back, wanderer; do not tell them of what you say or what you heard.” Walking around the table, she reached out to hold her with a surprisingly strong pair of hands, effectively snatching the air from her lungs. “Do promise me this, wanderer.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the reader stand near the window, watching whoever was outside their little home, a look of fear and defeat reflected in her green eyes. The melancholy of such scene was what made her nod her head, albeit reluctant, and with a shaky voice, she said:

“I promise.”

And so she went and grabbed her bow and arrows, leaving the little cottage without turning her head in spite of how _tempted_ she was to get just one more look; one more because she wasn’t sure just how long it would take until she could see the pair again, which seemed rather ironic now, considering how doubtful she had been not long ago.

She ran down the muddy path and, with a thundering heart, met the man who stepped out of the singular carriage amongst an army of horses carrying guards on their back. Stuttering out a breath from her mouth, she began to lower herself on one knee as a greeting to the king, but she hadn’t even been halfway towards the ground when strong hands grabbed her by the arms and pulled her into a warm embrace.

The familiarity of which was what made her melt into the king’s embrace and, after a while, she stepped back and looked at him with bewildered eyes. “Father, why are you here?”

There was a grim look on the king’s weary face, a stubborn line across his lips before he responded, “You’ve stayed long enough in the woods. Enough of this show of bravery, Lena. It’s time for you to go home.”

“But father—”

“ _Our_ people are waiting for their princess!” He exclaimed, lines of worry and exasperation digging deep in his forehead because of his daughter’s refusal. “People have been proven wrong a long time ago, Lena. There’s nothing more for you to prove the falseness of, do you understand?”

Pursing her lips, she nodded tightly and murmured, “Yes, father.”

“Go inside the carriage,” he demanded, which she immediately followed. “And don’t look back.”

The familiarity of his words made her hesitate in her steps and once again, the temptation to turn and look back was strong, _so_ strong that she began to turn her body to the side.

“Lena.”

The warning in his voice was clear and so Lena quickly entered the carriage, closing the windowless door with finality.

* * *

Outside, the king instructed the coachman to go back to the castle along with the rest of his guards and to leave his warhorse by the tree for his own transport. Albeit reluctant, his guards eventually left with his daughter, left alone in the woods, standing only a few distances away from the cottage he never thought he’d see again in his old age.

The little cottage looked as if it hadn’t been more than twenty winters since he last stepped foot in this particular area of his kingdom. It was only the sound of creaking wood under his weight as he stepped on the porch that signified the time that had passed. 

The door was not as bright as it had been before and as he pushed it open, it made an awful sound that pierced his ears, the wooden piece even threatening to detach from its frame. Inside was quiet, dusty in certain areas, but he accepted it as his people’s failure to do their task religiously. He would have to speak with them about the matter. 

He passed by the fresh bucket of goat’s milk and the baskets of fruits and vegetables, all of which he still deemed to be nothing but waste, yet out of necessity, he knew he must deliver a fresh delivery on the eighth morning from that day. 

Eventually, he found himself standing in front of the door from the kitchen’s far-right and, very slowly, he pushed it open and kept his hand where it was pressed, having no intention of stepping further into the room.

His gaze found the bodies lying on the bed, hands neatly gathered on top of stomachs slowly rising and falling with every breath they took. It had been more than twenty winters since he last saw them, and indeed, many things have changed.

Their skin was wrinkled by time; their hair, once vibrantly golden and the other, a deep and rich black, had turned as gray as the dust covering the top of their kitchen table outside. 

His eyes averted to the one pressed near the wall, his heart clenching at the sight of the same person he once treasured more than anything else in this world.

“Lena.”

His sister looked as peaceful as the last time he watched her fall into a deep slumber in his arms, back when she had not been older than fifteen; when her youth was vibrant and her innocence was evident in the way she carried herself every day.

He sighed solemnly into the quiet room and averted his gaze to the woman lying next to her. Despite her olden age, he would never fail to recognize the shape of that face, the familiar, and very stubborn, curve of her chin. Even in her deep sleep, she looked as proud as the day she declared her love for the woman sleeping right next to her.

Brave and proud.

Look where that brought her — _them_.

Swallowing bitterly, he slowly dropped his hand from the door and as it slowly covered the sight of his sister, regret engulfed him whole, reducing him into tears after having shed _none_ through endless wars and cruel decisions. 

He turned his back from them and made his way to the front door, determined to leave and never come back, but not before glancing over at the wind chimes by the window, its tune as enchanted as the day he procured it from a witch who lived in a faraway kingdom. 

It definitely served its purpose. With one last look at the bedroom door, he sighed and left with his parting words:

“Sleep well.” 


	2. a maze in reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When the mind plays tricks, it’s never easy to see the signs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be a confusing ride, so buckle up and make your imagination work!

_ “The sun has turned your kingdom’s sky into blood.” _

_ “Has it now?” _

_ “It has. In our kingdom, they accept it as someone’s envy taking over their kinder thoughts. It is the beginning of a game in their head, in which they must find their way out lest they get trapped in there forever.” _

_ “I believe that is too sinister for my beliefs.” _

_ “Magic can be sinister when in the hands of the wrong man.” _

_ “You believe in magic?” _

_ “Don’t you?” _

_ — _

“Is he gone?”

Kara looked at the frightened woman beside her after what felt like centuries of focusing her attention on the muddy ground beneath her feet. She reached out with shaky hands, cupping her face with the tenderness of a worried lover, thumbs brushing away the tears marring her otherwise perfect cheeks. 

“Is he?” Lena asked again, and Kara responded with a certain nod, sparing the backdoor with one, last fleeting glance, before facing Lena once again. 

“He is,” she said, managing a smile across her face as she slid her hands down to take Lena’s, squeezing them with reassurance. “He never did stay for a long time.”

Comforted by Kara’s words, Lena nodded gingerly and looked up at the sky, noting the rapidly sinking sun. Light always went by so fast when they lose track of the sun’s position, and with a regretful sigh, she turned to Kara and returned her smile, albeit shakily, “We must go back inside.”

Still joining hands, Kara and Lena made their way back into their little home after hiding in the little enclosure not so far away behind it. There was reluctance in their steps as they entered through the back door, eyes flickering from one corner to another, checking to see if something was missing or if their unwanted visitor had left something behind. Seeing none, they shared a meaningful look and finally allowed themselves to let go of their fear, smiling as they let go and floated toward their typical spot within the cabin.

As Lena lowered herself back on her chair to continue reading, Kara walked over to the fresh basket of fruits, eyeing the shiny, red apple on top of the mix. Perhaps an apple pie would help them relax after quite an eventful day.

“Apple pie for dinner?” she asked without turning to Lena, busy preparing the ingredients she needed, but when it took too long for Lena to respond, she frowned and turned to her. Upon seeing her lover’s slumbering form, Kara smiled and sighed in resignation, hands lowering back on the table. She wondered why she was still surprised by this. Lena  _ always _ fell asleep before dinner, always with the book on her lap, and they never did manage to share dinner together because of this silly, little habit. 

Like clockwork, Kara took a goblet instead and filled it with water, replenishing her ever-present thirst before joining Lena near the window. She set her chair a forearm’s length away from Lena’s and settled with a heavy breath as her body practically melted into her seat, as though it knew that danger was long gone and she was finally in no one’s company but the safety of her lover beside her. 

The chimes above their head sang its familiar tune; a comforting song, a lullaby she’s known for so long. 

—

The king’s face was grim as he sat at the head of the table, uncharacteristically quiet as he swirled the contents of his goblet in slow circles. The servants stood quietly, awaiting any command from him, but he remained silent, unnerving every single person sitting at the table and even those who were not.

The youngest child, Lena, who had been sitting quietly next to her older brother, finally dared to break the silence. She looked up from her plate and glanced over at her father, heart beating steadily, yet each throb was strong to the point of hurting, and if not for an underlying pair, she would reach out and soothe her hand over it. She restrained herself and began to speak, “Father, are you all right?”

The king remained quiet, and her older brother looked at her at the corner of his eyes with warning. As if to tell her to keep quiet. Chastised, she heeded her brother’s unspoken words and bowed her head once again, quietly picking at her food. 

Their eldest brother, next in line for the throne, gently relinquished his tight grip around his utensils, albeit watchful eyes would see the slight trembling of his fingers, signaling his withheld anger. 

“Father,” he began, voice much louder and firmer than Lena’s, and finally, the king snapped out of his trance and averted his lost gaze to his eldest son. “You have been quiet. Is everything all right?”

The king slowly straightened up in his seat and began to speak after sparing Lena a quick glance, “Yes. It has been a rather long day,” he paused to take a sip from his goblet, pursing his lips tightly to withhold a reaction towards the bitter taste of his wine. 

“If I may ask, father,” the eldest son spoke again. “Why did you not come back with Lena? You took the carriage for that very reason and yet…”

“Do not worry yourself with insignificant matters,” the king replied with a raised hand, dismissive and certain. 

The eldest son bowed his head. “Understood.”

“And you, Lena.”

Lena lifted her eyes from her plate to her look at her father. Even in the dim light of the dining hall, his daughter’s eyes shone a bright blue, only serving to remind him that this was an entirely different person, a different Lena in his life; it was a bitter reminder, despite how beautiful her eyes were, and the king had to take a few moment’s time to stamp whatever frustration was growing within him.

“You are not going back into the forest. Am I clear?”

He saw the protest in those blue eyes, in the way those thick eyebrows twitched and gathered into a frown, and the way her jaws became prominent as she clenched them, as if wanting to voice out her protestation. She knew she couldn’t do that without receiving undesirable consequences, however; so like the obedient child she was, she swallowed the bitter taste of disapproval in her mouth and nodded.

“Yes, father.”

—

_ “It will only work if you know her deepest desires. You must connect with her. Only then you will be able to put her in a peaceful sleep.” _

_ — _

_ “Is that what you want in life?” _

_ “To live peacefully?” _

_ “Is it?” _

_ “Perhaps.” _

_ “Indulge me.” _

_ “I want to live in a house filled with love, with understanding, and with freedom. I want to be able to do the things that I want, without people interfering with my visions with their own. I want to be with the person I  _ **_ chose _ ** _ to be with forever. I want to grow old with them, perhaps have a few kids, if we are blessed.” _

_ A pause. _

_ “I just want to be free.” _

_ — _

“Lena.”

The king’s youngest child turned with a start, a hand turned rough by her time in the forest pressing against her chest. “Alexander, you scared me.”

“I apologize” Alexander, the king’s eldest son, smiled apologetically as he entered his sister’s chamber. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Well, you’re here now,” she sighed as she went back to applying ointment on the palms of her hands. “What brings you?”

Alexander seemed to hesitate for a moment before asking, “What did you see in the forest?”

The question gave her a pause. She lifted her gaze to look at her brother through her mirror, eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

“Father is troubled. Surely, you noticed.”

“I did,” she nodded and then turned in her seat to face him. “He did seem anxious about something.”

“Do you know why?”

Lena blinked and met her brother’s searching eyes. There hadn’t been anything of significance in the forest that would possibly make  _ anyone _ troubled; no wild animals, no trespassers; no nothing.

_ Except for the lovers’ home _ .

Lena remembered the golden one’s words:  _ “Walk away and never look back, wanderer; do not tell them of what you saw or what you heard.” _

With an odd sense of loyalty for the admittedly kind stranger, she shook her head and spoke, “I do not have any idea why father is acting this way,” she smiled, albeit shakily. “Perhaps, he simply missed me. It has been a long time since I was home.”

Alexander had always been the most observant of them all. Lena wasn’t sure if he knew of her secrecy and simply let her go, or perhaps he trusted in her so strongly that he took her words for it, but he sighed and seemingly decided to deem the subject insignificant — for now, or forever, she wasn’t sure. 

“It has been a long time, indeed,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you enjoy your time? Was the tale true?”

Lena laughed quietly to herself. “It wasn’t. Two seasons and I saw nothing but the beauty of nature, Alexander.” Reassured of her brother’s lighter demeanor, she turned back to her mirror and resumed her task from earlier. “You must try to go there yourself.”

Being focused on her calloused hands, she didn’t see the way Alexander’s smile vanished from her face, and with a voice so far apart from the look on his face, he spoke lightly: 

“Perhaps, I will.”

—

_ “You really think this is your best option? Did it not come to your mind that your kingdom might fall because of your careless behaviour?” _

_ “ _ **_ Our _ ** _ kingdoms will fall because you refuse to listen to me!” _

_ “This is madness! What you ask of me is  _ **_ madness!” _ **

_ “Refusing to consider your sister’s happiness is madness.” _

_ The young king’s face darkened with anger. _

_ “You corrupted her. It is because of you that she will never be happy, and I will make sure of it.” _

_ — _

Soft footsteps echoed inside the king’s quiet chamber. The young heir closed the doors as quietly as possible, but the eerie silence had not concealed the collision of wood against wood. He turned to the man sitting at the foot of his bed, peculiarly looking so small in his clothes, a contrast to the man who had always carried himself with dignity before his people, including his own blood. 

“She claims to have no notion as to why you are upset, father,” he said, hands gathered tightly behind his back. “You should rest assured now.”

“You believe her?” the king asked without turning. “Just like that?”

Alexander clearly hesitated, knowing full well that his sister hadn’t been truthful with him. “She did sound as though she was hiding something.”

“Hm.”

That singular hum wafted into the still air inside the quiet chamber, and for whatever odd reason, it made Alexander’s skin crawl with chills beneath the heavy fabric of his clothes. He clenched his hands into fists, willing what he knew would be goosebumps to vanish as quickly as possible. There was no place for fear when standing before his father, and he learned that very early in his life. 

Still, the curiosity evoked by his father’s behavior was stronger than ever, and he found himself lingering for an answer. 

“What troubles you, father?”

The king, as he had expected, refused to give an answer, and the silence lasted long enough to give him a clue that, perhaps, he wouldn’t be receiving an answer any time soon, or  _ at all _ , but as he was about to bid his father a good night’s sleep, the king lifted his head from between his hands and looked his son straight in the eyes. 

“I have always wondered why  _ that _ tale never bothered you when you were young — even before you decided to wander into the forest all by yourself,” he paused, allowing Alexander breathe through his memories from when he was a child, all too eager to prove himself worthy of the throne by a show of bravery. “When you came back, you told me you did not see anything out of the ordinary.”

“That is still true, father,” he frowned. 

“Why?”

He blinked rapidly, eyebrows furrowing deeper in his confusion. “W-Why? I… I simply didn’t see anything significant in the forest—”

“Are you being honest?” the king asked, abruptly standing from where he sat, closing in the distance between him and his son in two, long strides. “Or, have you been hiding something from me? Just like your sister.”

“Father, what are you talking about-”

The king plowed on. “What did you see in the forest?”

Alexander was left floundering for an answer as the king drew closer to him,  _ looming _ over him, and he had no choice but to make himself smaller in the face of his father’s madness. 

“What did you see?” The king asked once again, his eyes widening in his pursuit for answers. “What did you see, Alexander?”

What came after resembled a moment in time when Alexander was learning how to swing a sword for the first time. The increase in his heartbeat resembled what the anticipation for his opponent’s blade made him feel all those years before; his vision trembled for barely a second,  _ disorienting _ him before it finally managed to focus on the subject of his fear again. Having little to no options to let out this adrenaline rush, Alexander remained frozen on his feet instead, and once he managed to snap out of this terrifying trance, he swallowed down what felt like a fist-sized lump in his throat and forced his mouth to move and make a sound:

“I-I didn’t see anything, father.”

The slow and elaborate darkening on his father’s face gave Alexander an obvious hint that his answer wasn’t enough, but the king was dismissing him before he could try to supplement more.

Without saying anything else, he bade him a proper farewell for the night and left. 

—

_ "Have you noticed something different with the king?” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ “He seems awfully beyond himself with anger these days, don’t you think?” _

_ “Hasn’t he always been that way?” _

_ “He has lived better days, but lately, it seems as though he’s taken on a wild look on his face. Again.” _

_ — _

The king dropped himself on the edge of his bed once he was left alone in his chambers. Rough hands clasped together beneath his chin as he stared at his shadow on the wall, steady and immobile, yet flickering now and then whenever a whisper of wind slipped through his window and nudged the fire to stutter. 

Someone was lying to him, but he wasn’t sure  _ who  _ and he wasn’t sure how to find out.

Once upon a time, when he was younger and stronger, he would have climbed up his horse and made the long travel from his kingdom to the neighboring town in which he met the woman, who had once helped him execute the only way for him to save his sister. 

But those years were far behind him and he was nothing but a wilting reminder of what he used to be. All he had left were memories, and these memories, which he wished he could leave in the past, remained to haunt him forever — not only in his dreams, but it seemed like they were determined to make sure that even his waking hours were riddled with reminders and questions left unanswered. 

Another question had joined the growing pile in his mind: how did his daughter find the cabin and what did she see inside?

He had made sure that the cabin was deep within the woods — not even  _ within _ , perhaps, but far away from the heart of his kingdom, almost stepping on its borders, and any routes usually taken by merchants or travelers; and for so many years, the intention of it not being visited by anyone other than himself and a select few he trusted about the matter was met. For so many years, there were no reports of a  _ quiet _ cabin discovered by his townspeople or visitors during their hunts or travels.

And then… Lena.

His eye twitched at the thought of his daughter. Lena. Was it a mistake to name her after the very person who had pushed him into accepting the existence of witchcraft? Was he so blinded by his love for his sister that he had somehow… created a way to break the spell? 

Or was he going crazy for thinking all these things, considering that the witch hadn’t told him of any loophole in the curse?

“And if she lied to me as well?” 

The question hung heavily above his head, and every second it remained unanswered, the king found himself angrier and more restless. 

—

The dawn was still breaking when the guards were alerted of disturbance in the stables. Two of them went to make sure there were no thieves trying their hands on luck, but what they witnessed, instead, was the king, merely dressed in his sleeping robe, riding his horse quickly toward the gates. 

They were helpless against his charge, reduced to simply watching him as he went farther and  _ further _ into the forest. 

It didn’t take long until his eldest son was informed about his leaving, and soon it was a chase between the father and his son.

Dressed in his pants and tunic, the prince shivered as he rode after his father, a little dot from where he was, and gods, he feared he would be too late. He knew this path, he knew where his father was going, and he knew the fear slowly creeping up his spine as he pinned his gaze on the back of his father’s head. 

Things were going horribly wrong. 

—

Early mornings were Kara’s favorite, always been, and despite all the years of being cooped up in her little house in the forest, that particular fact would never change, especially because she was with Lena. 

Of course, there were times when she’d hope to have the freedom to move around and  _ past _ the cottage, but at the end of the day, she knew she’d rather stay in the safety of her home with her lover than anything else. 

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled tenderly and lifted a hand to greet Lena with a wave, which was promptly reciprocated. Mornings were always like this. She’d wake up earlier than Lena, head outside to grab some fresh herbs for tea, and not long after, Lena would follow to witness the rising of the sun with her — or, at least, a hint of it, especially with how tall the trees were in their surroundings. 

“Did you sleep well?” she asked as she made her way to the porch, placing the small basket of chamomile flowers on a nearby table. 

“I slept like I always did,” Lena replied, and they shared a bittersweet smile. 

Kara drew closer to her and slid her hands along the brunette’s forearms, lingering near her elbows to squeeze gently. “Perhaps this tea will help you relax this morning,” she said, and then leaned in to brush her lips gently against Lena’s forehead. “A nap might do you good.”

“Immediately after waking up?” Lena chuckled in response. 

“You didn’t sleep well,” Kara reasoned back, shrugging her shoulders gingerly. 

In the face of her lover’s kindness, Lena couldn’t do anything but wear the softest smile on her face, light and unmarred by her everyday worries. Kara had always had that effect on her, even on the day she first met her twenty summers ago. 

She was just an unsuspecting, young lady, who lived to please her brother, the young king, as well as for the people of her kingdom. All of that changed when royalty from their neighboring country decided to visit and talk peace. Kara was the youngest of all the guests, a cousin of the king; not only that, but she was also a squire and needless to say, the peculiarity of it was what made his brother dislike their views and beliefs despite the growing understanding between him and the visiting king.

They were too open, too  _ forward _ , as what he had once said to her, but that didn’t stop Lena from pursuing Kara as the latter ran around the castle’s halls and wreak havoc all over the stiffness of their kingdom’s norm. 

Taking Kara’s hand in hers was the best decision she made in her entire life, and to this day, it still remained to be.

—

_ “I have made a deal.” _

_ “Here is a pouch full of gold. Perhaps that might change your mind.” _

_ “Well, with the right conditions, I can be persuaded a second time.” _

—

“Where did you go?”

Lena blinked languidly as her eyes came to focus on Kara’s face once again. With a little shake of her head, she smiled and reached up to return the kiss on Kara’s cheek, saying, “Nowhere. I am here, and I wouldn’t dare go anywhere.”

“Reassuring,” Kara laughed softly. “Well, I’ll go and boil some water for our tea.”

“You do that,” Lena responded and shooed the latter away with a gentle tap on the small of her back, watching her as she drifted into the cottage whilst she remained standing at the porch, content to bathe under the warmth of the morning sun for a long while.

However, the peacefulness of the forest was abruptly interrupted by the sound of thundering hooves against the ground. Terror spiked within her chest as she turned to where the sound was coming from, barely even noticing Kara beside her, taking her hand in a strong grip, surely to keep her grounded as her nerves threatened to throw her far away from where she stood. 

The sound grew closer and louder, and soon there was a familiar figure becoming clearer to their eyes. 

“It’s him,” Kara muttered shakily. “He’s back.”

Lena remained rooted in her spot and if it wasn’t for Kara tugging her arm and dragging her inside the cottage, through the small living room, and out the backdoor, she knew she would have never left the porch, stiff with fear at the thought of seeing  _ him _ once again.

_ Why is he back so soon? _

_ — _

The door slammed against the wall as the king stormed into the cottage. Wild eyes searching around the room, seeing nothing but the same objects from yesterday, the same state of  _ everything _ , the bloody wind chime serving its purpose, yet somehow producing sounds that rang so murderously inside his ears that made him want to cover them. 

And he did. He groaned through the ringing in his ears and tried to gather himself, to focus on his objective — on why he was back in the first place. Dropping his hands to his sides, he marched over to the door leading to the bedroom. Unlike before, he carelessly slammed it open, for once not giving a single thought about the state of the couple inside. 

They looked just as how he saw them yesterday, and all the days of previous seasons he had used to check on them, to make sure that they were still in deep slumber. 

“No,” he shook his head, the veins along his temples now more prominent as his temper rose. 

He pushed away from the door frame, panting, his eyes still locked on the pair inside the bedroom. 

Witchcraft. It was witchcraft that had turned him into this madman. Witchcraft was to be blamed, and maybe the next right thing to do was to kill the root of all his troubles. 

He turned and made his way to the kitchen, rummaging through various utensils until his fingers wrapped around the handle of a singular knife. It was the right thing to do, and he should have done it a long time ago. He shouldn’t have allowed his  _ emotions _ to blind him from what was right. 

He should have ended them both.

Turning on his heel, the king began to charge back into the room, only to stop upon noticing a door he had never once bothered opening before. It was situated only a few steps away from the bedroom, and the gaps between the door and its frame let in some light from the outside, taunting him  _ or was it calling him _ ?

He’d momentarily forgotten about what was just about to execute. Instead, he slowly walked closer to the door, the ringing of the wind chimes in his ears now gone and replaced with the eerie silence of the cottage, disrupted only by the creaking wood underneath his weight.

He reached for it slowly once he’s closer, pressing his hand against the door to push it slowly, anticipation growing rapidly inside him.

And then, there was nothing.

—

Kara had never felt fear quite like this before. 

As she held Lena in her arms, she couldn’t help the subtle trembling of her frame despite her efforts in keeping her arms still to provide stability and strength for the brunette. 

It was one man inside the cottage, yet it felt like listening to an army causing a rampage inside their little home. But it was all right — whatever the king was doing inside, Kara didn’t care. 

As long as the king stayed inside the cottage, Kara  _ did not care _ . 

He’d leave and they’d clean up after his mess; perhaps they would think of what could have happened if he found them, but it wouldn’t matter in the end because it  _ never _ happened, and that was what would always matter to Kara. 

“Is he gone?” Lena’s voice wafted into the air in a soft whisper, bringing Kara’s attention to the chaos inside the cottage — or lack thereof. 

She considered it for one second. Perhaps he had left and, indeed, she found herself relaxing in the silence of the cottage, but her ear perked up at the sound of wood creaking under someone’s foot, and then her fear was upon ridiculous heights once more.

Lena shook in her arms once again, and Kara helplessly tightened her embrace, praying to the gods for protection — for anything or anyone at that point, really — but a cruel reminder of their neglect at times they’re most needed came in the form of the door bursting open—

Only for them to jump in surprise, Lena letting out a small squeal, at the sight of the king lying on the floor, face down and still.

“ _ Lex _ !” 

Lena broke away from Kara, dropping on her knees beside her brother’s unmoving frame, and the sight of it stunned her. 

“Lena…”

Kara didn’t know how Lena could still stomach the sight of her brother, much less be at close proximity as him, but the panic and relief were clashing inside her head that she only stayed rooted on her feet, watching Lena check on her seemingly lifeless brother on the floor. 

“Don’t worry,” a voice called one that Kara immediately recognized. “He’s not dead; just asleep.”

Kara stepped over the king’s body and looked at the owner of the voice, taking in his disheveled and breathless state. He was taller than the last time she saw him, hair much longer and half of his face now covered with beard. He had become a man since his last visit, and this she knew Lena noticed as the brunette had turned her attention on him instead of her brother.

“H-How are you here?” Lena asked, appearing to be much calmer than just a few moments before, so Kara took the opportunity to pick her up from the floor and hold her close once again for comfort. “How did… How did you know?”

The young man clenched his jaws and turned his gaze to the king, a tiny shake of his head not going unnoticed by the women. “My sister told me,” he said, careful. “A-About horsemen coming here yesterday. I only wanted to check if everything is okay and… I saw him and thought he was dangerous.”

“He is,” Kara nodded, a grim look dawning upon her face as she looked at Lena, caressing her back gently. “We have been hiding from him for so long.”

“And now he has found you. You might not be safe here anymore.”

“We have nowhere else to go,” Lena said solemnly. “Here is safe.”

Kara pursed her lips before speaking, “Did your sister tell anyone about her visit?”

“No!” he exclaimed, swallowing at the startled look on their faces. “N-No. She did not. I always made sure.”

Doubt shadowed Kara and Lena, but the reminder that they were safe  _ again _ , for now, was what kept them from asking further, and it was all thanks to  _ him _ ,  ** again. **

“I deeply apologize for this encounter,” he muttered just before bending down to collect the unconscious king from the floor. There was a bit of a struggle and Kara almost reached out to help, but the young man turned and showed the face of the king and suddenly, Kara was stepping back, bringing Lena along with her, keeping them as far away from him as possible.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the young man, and he pursed his lips again, apologetic. 

“I will deliver the king back to the kingdom and tell his people—”

Kara frowned. “No—”

“—A fabricated story,” he reassured quickly. “Anything to keep him from coming back. Perhaps, whoever is next in line for the throne will find ways to keep him from getting out of the castle again.”

A new-found rush of relief washed over Kara and Lena upon hearing that and slowly, but definitely surely, they followed the young man as he retreated out of the cottage along with the unconscious king. They watched as he placed the king on his horse, arranging him with the tenderness of what could only be a familiar person. 

Kara refused to acknowledge anything else at which point, only determined to get back inside, with her lover, and resume their peaceful living. 

Lena, on the other hand, turned to face the direction of the young man and spoke just after the latter climbed up his horse:

“Thank you, wanderer, and be careful.”

The wanderer turned to her with an unreadable look in his eyes, but she continued:

“And say hello to your sister for us.”

“Another wanderer.”

—

_ “Didn’t you know? The king has gone mad since the birth of his youngest child, Lena.” _

_ “I never saw it manifest before me.” _

_ “When the mind plays tricks, it’s never easy to see the signs.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Let me know about your conclusions. ♥
> 
> tumblr @ dcanslist

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone guessed what the thing was in the end? Thoughts? ♥


End file.
